Ghosts don't like McDonald's
by homeforthelost
Summary: Set in late Season 1, Outsider POV In Oregon, the boys run into a spot of bother with a ghost, with a confused, concussed Dean, Sam decides the best way to get rid of the ghost, or at least avoid it for now, is to head to Hallowed ground. Except...the old church has been replaced with a small town McDonald's...


A/N: I stole the prompt"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Ghosts hate McDonalds." From Pinterest. I wasn't sure how I could incorporate that into Supernatural, so I shortened it a bit. It's 11:30, I have school in seven hours, sorry for any mistakes! If you guys see anything, let me know I will try my best to fix it. Let me know what you think! This is Outsider POV. This is set later during Season 1.

PG13 rating for a few curse words.

Just over 2,000 words! Woohoo!

Disclaimer: The characters Sam and Dean Winchester and their storyline belong to Kripke, I'm just playing.

"Ghosts Hate McDonalds"

"I friggin' hate stupid, friggin' Jacob Schlott." I snapped to myself even as I could feel the heavy, cold rain of late October soak through my thin coat. I _knew_ I should have kept my thick coat in my car. Only tourists from the south are stupid enough to not keep a coat in their car. Everyone knows to keep one. This is Oregon. It rains practically every day here. I should have known better than to take it out to wash, no matter how filthy or muddy it had gotten. At least it would have kept me dry, unlike this flimsy stupid, fashionable jacket. Even if it was thirty percent off… It certainly isn't keeping me dry now. I knew it wouldn't when I bought it, but I am most certainly well reminded of that fact now that I'm soaked to the skin. Just like I _knew_ I shouldn't have let Jacob offer to close up. Of _course,_ he forgot to turn off the lights in the kitchen. It was only pure luck that brought me by, only to see that Jacob had indeed, just like I knew he would, forgotten to turn off the lights. We have had this discussion over and over and over again. Stupid teenagers. This McDonald's is brand new. I bought it cheap because nobody would buy it. Some silly sentimental thing over some old, dilapidated church. It had previously been quite the eyesore. I will never understand this stupid, small town mentality, no matter how old it is, or how ugly we need to keep it because it's part of our history. Yeah, even now, I can't help but roll my eyes at the simplicity of these little town people. No appreciation for the nicer things in life. Like this jacket, I shouldn't have worn it in the rain, but it looks _damn_ good on me.

A strong gust of wind pulls me from my musings and made me pull the flimsy pink jacket closer to me for any sort of protection it might offer, no matter how pathetic it might be, against the chill of the night. I keep reminding the forgetful teenager he _must_ turn off all of the lights. I scowl as I think of how many times we've discussed what needs to be done before locking up for the night. The rains sends another chill down my spine. Finally! I reached the door and the overhang kept me dry, not that that would help me now, I was already soaking wet. I shivered again, cursing my fingers for being stiff as I fumbled with the shiny, new key in my jacket pocket. Shakily, I tried to insert the key, but my hands were shaking too much and were too stiff to cooperate, so I settled for sticking one hand under my armpit in attempts of warming it up. I turned my back to the new door to glance miserably at the downpour, again cursing Jacob under my breath. I leaned against it with a huff, only to feel it give beneath me as it swung upon. I squealed with surprise and tried not to lose my footing, only to end up sitting on the floor. Of course! Not only did he forget to turn the lights off! He forgot to lock the door. I'll be lucky if nothing was taken at this rate. "Stupid teenagers these days," I grumble to myself with an annoyed huff as I sat up and clumsily got to my feet glad no one was here to see my mishap. No sooner had I straighten up, I heard a clanging noise. "Hello!" I called out with a shaky voice. It would be my luck to walk into someone robbing the cash registers. Silence met me. Enveloping me in a thick compressing embrace. "Nothing there" I tried to reassure myself as I walked along the wall, my fingers scrabbling for the light switches that I can't seem to find. Something whispers, the lights flicker in the kitchen. I feel my heart start to pound. Where is that light? Light suddenly floods the room, illuminating the previous dark corners. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing there, I'm just being silly. I head towards the kitchen, adrenaline and cold making me shakier on my feet than I'm willing to admit to myself. The tables and chairs look neat and orderly. At least there's that going right tonight. I round the corner into the kitchen area to see chaos. No other way to describe it, mud on the floors traversing from the back door and its bright red "Exit" sign, mud smeared on cabinets and-"Oh my God!" My hand flies to my chest in shock and horror. Is that blood? On my oven? What the Hell passes for clean these days! Anger courses through me as I look for a rag and bleach to clean up this-this mess! It has to be done before we open again in the morning at 5. I yank the towel off the oven handle and head furiously to the closet near the exit. I mumble a few more choice words that would have me blushing furiously if overhead as I shove my key into the lock and twist it. I push against it only to meet more resistance than I thought and I walk into the door. Stumbling back, I almost fall on the slick floor in my heels. "What the Fuck did you do to my door?!" This is it, I will call Jacob in the morning and inform him that I will not stand for such disarray. He can turn in his time sheet for this week and that is it! He will _not_ be working for me again! I approach the door again, this time slipping out of my heels to push against it. I lean heavily into it, the door is really stuck, seriously, what did they do? Wedge the broom in the corner and prop it against the door? The door is almost open enough for me to slide in, I grumble some more under my breath and shove hard. The door gives suddenly and I am pelted with something and blinded by a bright light. Shrieking, I stumble backwards, one hand up to block the light and the other with my shoes and the rag up to block whatever was thrown on me. "Stop! She's human!" a deep voice calls out as I fall on my butt looking away from the light and skittering backwards until I hit the door, accidentally slamming it shut with a dooming click. Well-greased hinges making no noise and offering no resistance when I hit it. Instead of calming me down, that terrifying sentence sends me into hysterics. Not only is there more than one man, vagabonds, in this broom closet, but apparently they're insane. What else would I be but human? And _what_ was I pelted with? "It's okay," it's the same voice, a quieter tone. "We didn't mean to startle you, we thought you were something else." They shine the light off of me, instead directing it to my right and the jamb of the door. "See? We didn't mean to scare you." I can feel tears streaming down my face, no doubt streaking my mascara, "The money is-is in t-the register," I manage to get out between terrified sobs. "Look at what you did. You're making it worse Gigantor." Another voice is added to the mix, it's coming from a few feet away from me, much closer than the first voice. This one sounded chiding and addressed to the first voice I heard. "W-what did you throw on m-me!" I'm bawling, what could these hooligans possibly want from me? "Jus' go to McDonald's you said, 'hat'll get rid of i' you said… T'rrible idea! I tol' you so!" the deeper voice grumbles out, reminding momentarily of a petulant child. "Hey, hey, it's alright, I'm sorry, it was just salt. Not going to hurt you." The first voice again, in a consoling, if somewhat awkward sounding tone. I sniffle, trying to compose myself. "S-salt?"

"Yeah sweetheart. Just salt, and if you let us out now, we will just get out of your broset." What? "No, that's wrong, your clore." A slight pause, what the hell? Maybe they are just high? "That's not it either." The light shifts to face the ceiling, illuminating the stature of the two males, the one across from me is HUGE. No other way to describe it, but tall now I understand why the second guy referred to him as Gigantor. I squint and lower my hands, remaining curled against the door. "You alright Dean? Your head hurting anymore? There's no way you don't have a concussion." Tall guy, says, pure concern in his tone as he moves closer and crouches next to the deeper voiced man on my left. "Lemme see." The voice is demanding, and concerned. My brow furrows as I wipe more stray tears, smearing my mascara no doubt. " 'S no' tha' bad. Be fine." He doesn't sound so good. In the light Gigantor is using, I can see the blood smeared and drying all along the right side of the man's head, I can now also see he is quite young. Maybe early twenties, closer to mid-twenties, with short, spiky hair and dilated green eyes. Gigantor, now with a little pen light playing with it and shining it in the other guy's eyes, is also really young, early twenties with longer, darker hair. He snorts, "Sure, try that again when you don't get your metaphors mixed up." He looks back at me, one hand cradling short-and-spiky's cheek, the other with the light. "I am really sorry about this, if you could stand up, we will get out of your way." Gigantor grips the jacket of short-and spiky with both hands, somehow still shining the light on the floor. With a heave, he carefully hauls him up. "Come on, up we go." He braces short-and-spiky with a shoulder and a firm grip in the opposite shoulder's worn, leather jacket. Short-and –spiky groans and sways on his feet, the only thing holding him up is obviously Gigantor's grip. Hesitantly, I push off the floor and as far away from them as I can get. Just because they say they won't hurt me doesn't make it true. Vagabonds. If I can just get them out, I can call Sherriff John. He can deal with them. "The money's in the register," I squeak out again hoping to get out of tight quarters with them. Gigantor looks at me, confusion in his eyes. "That's nice, can you please move so I can get him out?" It's demanded firmly, not asked, but it still somehow comes off as polite. I lurch away from the door to let them through, standing as far away from them as I can. I can't help but wrinkle my nose, now that it doesn't appear they want to hurt me, the adrenaline is wearing off and I'm noticing things I didn't before. Like how bad they reek. Like blood and earth and sweat. Short-and-spiky stumbles, his feet dragging. Gigantor just adjusts his grip and continues forward, letting go with one hand to pull the door back open. It opens easily beneath his grip, which is probably a good thing as short-and-spiky stumbles and almost goes down. Gigantor stoops but manages to keep them both up. I'm certainly not going any closer, my nose crinkles, they smell so bad, and besides, if they had just stayed out of trouble, they wouldn't be in this mess to begin with! I just want them gone. It's going to be a long night as it is. Look at this mess! Mud and blood and heaven only knows what else on the floor! I let them stagger at the door, already reaching for my phone in my pocket. I hear short-and-spiky start laughing, more like giggling. Gigantor props him against the doorframe with a hip and a hand firmly on a shoulder as he peers at his buddy's face. "Hey," his voice is louder now, "you with me?" concern is etched into his young face. I hide my phone, no need to announce that I'm calling for help. The laughing dies down into chuckles, "What? What could you possibly find funny about tonight?" the tone sounds like fond exasperation and worried. Short-and-spiky tries to say something but starts laughing again. "Hey!" Gigantor's voice is raised. "you with me?" Concern bleeds through strongly. "You wanna try that again?" The laughing settles a bit, "G-ghosts don't like McDonald's!" The concern falls, I start typing the phone number for the Sherriff discreetly as Gigantor chuffs a little and grins as he resumes gripping his buddy. They start staggering out the door. "It's hallowed ground Dean, and it saved our asses tonight." Their footsteps are uneven and loud, tracking mud all over my floor no doubt. The call is ready to go through, I just need to press the call button. The back door opens and I can hear rain pounding mercilessly. " 's funny! Ghosts don' like McDonald's."

"Sure Dean, let's get you back to the 'Pala and …bed…." I can't hear them anymore, the door shuts loudly, leaving me in silence. I hit the call button, my hands shaking. I survey the damage as the phone rings in my ear, mud is all over my floor, puddles-puddles of water, blood on my shelf. If stupid, friggin' Jacob Schlott had done his job, maybe I wouldn't have had to clean up this mess.


End file.
